


Batman & Robin: The Early Years - Stand Alone Stories

by The_Uninformed_Zennial



Series: Batman & Robin: The Early Years [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne-centric, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Dick Grayson-centric, Edward Nygma is the Riddler, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mentioned Alfred Pennyworth, Mentioned Barbara Gordon, Mentioned Jim Gordon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Uninformed_Zennial/pseuds/The_Uninformed_Zennial
Summary: A series of indeterminate short works of fiction detailing a few of Batman (Bruce Wayne) and Robin (Dick Grayson)'s adventures together in the early era of their partnership. There will be a loose plot in some of them, while others will simply be stand alone fluff/angst pieces.My inspiration comes from a myriad of different places and will be detailed at the end notes, including any relevant comics/fan works/t.v. shows, etc...Also, this is an ongoing series with no real set schedule. I'll try to update it at least once a week, but sometimes I'll do more and sometimes I'll do less.Enjoy!
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Batman & Robin: The Early Years [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079492
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Nightmares & Riddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick has a nightmare and seeks Bruce to comfort him.

Soaring. 

Flying. 

  
  


Falling...

Dick woke in a cold sweat, the cool night air sapping any warmth from his face and hands. His soaked bed sheets doing very little to warm them back up. He grunted as he rolled out of bed, being careful to not upset the scratch on his arm he had procured earlier in the night, and grabbed a robe from the closet, hoping it might help him regain some warmth. He pushed open the door to his room and carefully stepped out into the shadow of the hall. 

It was strange to see the manor so dark and cold when it was normally full of light and warmth, if nothing else. It almost reminded him of the cave, but a bit less damp. He wondered if Alfred was still awake, though if the lack of light from the kitchen was any indication, the answer would most likely be no. Still, he knew that if he tapped on the butler’s door he would open it without hesitation, claiming to have never been asleep to begin with. He was just that kind of guy. But, Dick didn’t feel like talking about his nightmares tonight. No. Tonight, he just wanted to forget, and he knew just who to go to for that.

Bruce was sitting in his chair facing the huge computer screen that took up the smallest corner of the cave. Dick liked to call it the batcomputer. Alfred insisted upon addressing it by it’s proper phrase and Bruce supposedly agreed, but Dick had heard Bruce call it the batcomputer a few times when Alfred couldn’t hear. Despite the fact that Dick noiselessly entered the cave, Bruce still turned his head as he came down the steps.

“Nightmare?” He asked, a hint of concern seeping into his mostly cold tone.

Dick nodded his acknowledgement.

“Want to talk about it?”

Dick could tell he was really trying, but had to stifle a laugh at the idea of talking to Bruce about a nightmare, “Do you really think I’d be here if I did?”

Dick could see a smile tug at the edges of Bruce’s lips and knew his comment hadn’t done any harm. Bruce knew himself as well as Dick did. 

He slid his chair back and faced his ward, “Want to review some case files?”

Dick nodded his head in agreement once more as he moved forward to grab a nearby chair and sit next to his guardian.

“What are we investigating this time boss?”

“The riddler’s most recent escape from Gotham.”

“That guy really needs to work on his shtick.” He glanced over at Bruce’s semi-amused face and knew he was good to continue. “I mean seriously, how many riddles can you tell before you run out of new ideas?”

Bruce was busy typing the report into the computer, but after a slight pause he said, “...not to mention the riddles contain what crime he’ll commit.”

Dick grinned. “Right? The dude doesn’t even lie about what he’s gonna do, just leads you straight to it, without even attempting to misdirect you! You know, I think even the GCPD could catch him if they had anybody worth their paycheck on their team.” Dick glanced back at Bruce for a second, “... I mean, besides Commissioner Gordon, of course. Say, have you seen Barbara lately? I haven’t seen her at school in a while and was just, you know, wondering…”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at his ward and Dick flushed with embarrassment, “What? You know I didn’t mean it like that! I just, you know, what to make sure she’s okay and all that.”

Bruce sighed as he replied, “I’m certain if anything had happened to Barbara Commissioner Gordon would’ve reached out.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dick breathed, leaning backwards in his chair, “I guess you’re right about that.”

Quite a few moments of silence passed between the two young men. It wasn’t the kind of silence that left a hole in the air, but more like the kind of silence that was filled by two minds silently working on solutions to their own problems. Dick, surprisingly, was focused almost entirely on the case in front of them, putting together abstract clues to create a rough idea of how the Riddler escaped from Arkham. Bruce on the other hand had his mind divided between working on the case, specifically analyzing a unique type of dirt found from a footprint at the last arkham breakout, and trying to figure out what had been so distressing to Dick that would cause him to wake up in the night and seek him out for comfort, or… whatever this was. Soon enough, the answer to both boys' questions revealed their answers.

“It was the circus…”

“It was the Joker…”

They both spoke simultaneously.

After a moment’s pause, Bruce spoke, “You go first.”

Dick nodded his head in agreement and proceeded, “I was just saying that I think the Joker broke the Riddler out of the Asylum. I know it’s a weird idea, since the Joker didn’t escape himself, but the guards reported strange markings on the wall that connected Riddler’s cell to Joker’s. Also, Nygma’s cell didn’t have a window, but Joker’s did.”

Bruce gave Dick a funny look, one that Dick might've mistook for pride, if he didn’t know any better. “Good work kid.” Apparently he didn’t know any better, and neither did Bruce.

“Thanks.” Dick half-smiled, put off by his mentor’s outpouring of love, inferring that it meant he would be taking a stab at being a parent, which never turned out well. Last time, it resulted in a near death experience for Batman because Robin had been grounded when facing a threat to the city. The time before that, Batman had gotten tortured for two days because he had fired Dick from being Robin after he got a sprained ankle. And the time before that… no one ever spoke about it, but let’s just say that the PTA decided to never hold a bake sale again. Maybe if he was the first to initiate the conversation this time, the results wouldn’t be as disastrous.

“So, what were you gonna say?” Dick questioned Bruce, trying to hold the fear out of his voice as much as possible.

Bruce finally turned away from the computer and looked fully into Dick’s eyes, “It was the circus tonight, wasn’t it.” He said as a statement, not a question, and for some reason, it made Dick cry. He tried to fight back the tears, tried to hold them off for as long as possible. He even shut his eyes, but the second they closed all they saw were his parents, falling to their deaths. Their bodies landing in the middle of the circus floor, arms and legs sprawled out in unnatural angles, while their blood pooled beneath them, staining their white leotards. An audible sob escaped Dick’s lips, and the next thing he knew, Bruce was holding him in his arms, both leaving their chairs behind them, falling on the ground in a puddle of tears, fluffy robe, and spandex. They stayed like that for a while, each finding comfort in the arms of the other. Bruce was the first to move.

“Chum,” he began, that strange nickname that somehow appeared in his vocabulary overnight filling Dick with a sense of peace, “I want you to know I get them too.”

“Get what too?”

“Nightmares.”

“Oh.” Dick paused to carefully consider what he was going to say next, “What are they about?”

“Same as you. My parents.”

“D-” Dick began, hesitating a little, “do they ever go away?”

Bruce looked at his ward with sad eyes, “Not fully. But they do lessen with time.”

Dick nodded and wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. A yawn escaped his mouth and for some reason his eyelids did not want to reopen. He felt a large warm arm clasp his back, and heard Bruce say, “C’mon Chum, it’s time to go back to sleep.”

Normally, Dick would have protested, but his body betrayed him and hummed his agreement. As Bruce escorted him back upstairs, Dick let himself feel something he hadn’t felt in a very long time… safe. And it was wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work was inspired by all the fanfic's on here that talk about Dick (or any of the batkids really) waking up in the middle of the night and cuddling with Bruce, because as much as I love that idea, we all know that:  
> 1\. Bruce doesn't sleep  
> 2\. Bruce doesn't emote  
> Those two things in combination made me quite skeptical about the whole cuddling thing. Not to mention Bruce got most of his kids when they were in their late pre-teens/early teens, and I don't know about you guys, but I stopped cuddling with my parents when I was six. So, I figured I'd write a still soft, but more realistic version of the batkids getting comfort from Bruce thing with Dick when he was still a smol bean. I hope you guys liked it as much as I did.


	2. First Christmas in Gotham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas special for you all before I start getting into the loose plot I have planned for this series. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dec. 25: Sorry for the no doubt crappy writing. I just spent the last two hours writing this (it’s 2:00 am rn), because I randomly got this idea. I may delete or edit this tomorrow so enjoy it as it is while you can!

The boy had been silent for the first few months. He kept his head down during dinner, he never went to bother anyone in the middle of the night despite the nightmares that plagued him, and barely laughed at any attempt at joking on Alfred’s part. Yet he was still too much for Bruce to handle. 

Every time the boy smiled or the chime of his laughter bounced off the empty manor walls, a knife would pierce Bruce’s heart. The shadow of two crumpling forms would fall to the ground all over again and Bruce would watch another child’s world shatter into a million pieces before him. But, that wasn’t why Bruce couldn’t bear to be around his young ward. No, the truth was, Bruce couldn’t stand to hear Dick laugh because it reminded him of how different they truly were.

When Bruce’s parents died, he did not speak to anyone for a year. No words. One whole year. And it didn’t bother him a bit. In fact, he preferred it that way. Not speaking warded off any would-be pretenders trying to worm their way into Bruce’s heart. Which was of utmost importance because the second his parent’s bodies hit the floor of that abandoned alleyway Bruce knew he would never let anyone into his heart again. Never. (Alfred, of course, was a small exception, but he was a necessary evil due to the fact he kept Bruce alive).

Then, only a few months ago Bruce witnessed this boy, already a talented acrobat with a dazzling smile, face the same tragedy he had, and his heart broke. He knew the corruption of Gotham would leave the boy high and dry, so he took him in as his ward and at first, he thought it would be okay. He thought wrong. The moment it hit him was at the funeral.

Dick hadn’t hardly spoken to Bruce in the two weeks they had lived together, which didn’t concern Bruce in the slightest considering his experience with his own parent’s murder, but it had seemed to bother Alfred. So, Bruce decided to take a bit more notice of the boy’s interactions during the ceremony and something strange came to light. He realized that Dick never flinched away from the people who came to comfort him. He didn’t stare off into space, shoving his feelings as far down as they could go before he broke. He didn’t push people away. In fact he embraced his emotions much like he embraced his comforters, with open arms and a quiet sob. It was then Bruce knew he had royally screwed up.

The boy obviously did not trust Bruce in the slightest, and he, being emotionally stunted himself, had no real idea how to help the kid. Still, he tried to cut back on his duties at Wayne Enterprises, and attempted to spend more time with his ward. He quickly discovered the young boy’s fascination with animated disney movies, particularly the Lion King and the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and the two immediately bonded over their shared love of midnight snacks and hot chocolate. Soon Dick was starting to talk. His smiles became more frequent, his laughter echoing off the walls so loudly he startled the bats down in the cave. And Bruce allowed himself to think, just maybe, he had made an impact in this kid’s life. Then he found the Batcave.

Suddenly, all the weeks Bruce had spent building trust with his boy were worthless. Dick refused to speak to anyone, including Alfred. He holed himself up in his room for days on end, and refused to come out except for meals and the occasional snack. Bruce was certain the boy would never trust him again. To make matters worse, it was only a few days before Christmas, and Scarecrow had decided to make the Nightmare Before Christmas a reality in Gotham city. So, suffice it to say, Bruce was stressed. 

It was Christmas Eve when Batman finally faced down Scarecrow. He had cornered him in an alley in one of the poorer areas of Gotham, and despite having suffered some very serious blows, he was still standing with enough energy left to take Crane in. The only pitfall being that his gas mask’s structural integrity had been compromised by a miscalculated blow to his face. Still, that wouldn’t be a problem as long as he got Scarecrow before he had the chance to use his toxin. Of course, as soon as Batman stepped into the alley, he was consumed by a cloud of the sickly green fog, but not before he was able to throw a self-wrapping Batarang at the villain, thus securing his capture by the GCPD, who were waiting for him on the other side of the alley. The police would be fine. Gotham would be fine. Bruce, however, not so much.

He didn’t remember climbing to the top of the nearby building. He didn’t remember collapsing next to the ventilation shaft. And he certainly didn’t remember calling the Batcave for help. What he did remember were shadowy, twisted visions of his parents looking up at him covered in their own blood telling him he failed. He remembered Alfred turning his back to him, locking him away in Arkham with the rest of the crazies. But most vividly, he remembered Dick, curled up in a corner with a Batarang sticking out of his side asking in his soft little voice, “why?”, while Bruce inspected his own bloodstained hands out of the corner of his eye. And Bruce remembered the screaming, his or someone else’s he couldn’t tell. The screaming was the only constant.

He woke up a few hours later, strapped to a surgical table in the batcave. He tugged lightly on the restraints, causing some of the buckles to jingle together, which typically alerted Alfred to his state of consciousness. However, Alfred didn’t come. Bruce jingled again. Still no answer. Finally he decided to call Alfred’s name loudly enough to be heard from any corner of the batcave. He heard what sounded like a metal tray clang loudly to the floor, and a gasp that certainly did not come from Alfred escaping a person located somewhere above his head. A few seconds later he saw Dick’s piercing blue eyes peek into Bruce’s line of sight, fear filling their rims almost as much as the sleep pulled on their lids.

After a moment of cautious silence Dick asked, “...do you think you’re done yelling?”

Bruce paused to consider his predicament. The fear toxin usually stayed in the system for a few days after exposure, but most of it wore off within the first hour or two.

“How long was I out for?” was his considered reply.

“Two hours...ish”

Bruce nodded slightly. “I should be good then.”

Dick also nodded, then disappeared behind Bruce’s head once more. After a few minutes of shuffling, a bit of grunting, and a few quiet huffs of frustration, the messy mop head reappeared in Bruce’s line of sight. A little bit more of shuffling and clicking of locks and suddenly, Bruce was free. He decided to sit up slowly, just in case a quick change in blood circulation decided to bring a new round of fear toxin to his mind. When he was in the clear, he turned to face the little boy, who he now noticed was dressed almost entirely in black and had a few rips in his clothes.

“Where’s Alfred?” He asked.

“Asleep.”

“Isn’t that where you’re supposed to be?” Bruce questioned, trying to at least pretend to be a responsible parental figure.

“If I was you’d still be on that roof, so…” The boy retorted, a slightest hint of obnoxiousness tainting his response.

Bruce immediately softened, “I was on a roof?”

Dick opened up and began to talk about how he had come down to the cave in the middle of the night because he had wanted to try and make up with Bruce before Christmas. He had been trying to gather courage all day, but it wasn’t until he saw the bat signal light up in the Gotham skyline that he realized exactly what he had to say. When he got down to the cave, however, Bruce had already gone into Gotham and was in the middle of facing down Scarecrow. Dick had just got the system up and running when he saw Batman get gassed with the fear toxin. He knew he had to go save his guardian, whether or not he agreed with his decision to keep his real life a secret from his ward. So, he climbed into the nearest Batmobile and programmed it to take him to Bruce’s location.

Climbing onto the roof was easy, getting Bruce down, not so much. By the time Dick got there Bruce was in the full throes of fear toxin delusion, and happened to be very violent about what he was seeing. Dick had to dodge a couple of wild punches and cuff Bruce before he could lower him down into the Batmobile using a grappling gun. Then they came back to the cave where Dick secured Bruce on the Scarecrow proof table and waited for him to wake up.

Bruce simply nodded and limped over to the Batcomputer, planning on making his last report for the night. Dick followed noiselessly behind him. After a few minutes of typing, Bruce looked up and asked, “What did you think about what I did tonight?”

Dick was startled and took a minute to respond, but when he did he spoke clearly and well, “I thought it was scary, and dangerous, and maybe a little reckless. But honestly Bruce, I think it was important. When I saw the bat signal turn on tonight it’s like everything clicked for me. Suddenly I knew why you do this every night. You do it because no one else can. And I think that’s a pretty good reason to do it.”

Bruce felt a smile tug at his lips. “Alright, Chum. You did good work tonight. Now go to bed before Santa decides to turn all your presents into coal.”

Dick half-heartedly scowled and rolled his eyes, “I haven’t believed in Santa since I was eight.” a yawned escaped his tightly pursed lips, “but maybe I will take your advice. It’s been a long night.”

With that he slipped up the stairs and out of the batcave for the night.

\-----

The next morning, as Bruce was just emerging from the shadows of the cave, he caught sight of Dick bounding down the stairs, making a beeline for the living room with its many lights and singular christmas tree surrounded by presents. Bruce felt a tug at his heart as he materialized into a nearby armchair and settled in to watch Dick open his many presents. Only this time, the tug wasn’t sadness or fear. This time the tug was love. Dick had wormed his way deep into Bruce’s heart and he was there to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update circa December 27: I decided to leave it up without editing.


End file.
